


Pulse

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal cannot resist Will anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: There is non-consensual fondling. Not anything past that.

Will Graham was enticing and vulnerable. He always was. He bared his emotions so readily now. He flayed himself open to Hannibal Lecter without hesitation. He used to be so resistant, but that changed. They were alone together often and Hannibal would find his eyes trailing down Will’s body, past his lips, over his collar bones, the curve of his shoulders, the veins in his hands. He wished to explore every inch of him with his fingertips, to  _feel_  him. Not to harm him. Not badly.

He couldn’t do this with Will conscious. As much as he’d love to hear Will’s breath hitch and shudder beneath him, it couldn’t be done. It was a shame.

Hannibal found him where he wouldn’t see it coming, exiting the forensic’s lab at night when the lights were out. He was alone. Feasibly, he could be attacked by a stranger here.

Approaching Will silently from behind, he cradled his hand against his head. Delicately, at first. He didn’t have time to notice it. Then all at once he forced him into the hard wall beside them. It was effortless. He’d done it before, and not just to Alana Bloom. The body in front of him went limp and he gently cradled it in his arms as they sunk to the floor together. 

 _Poor Will_.

His breathing was quiet. He felt so terribly delicate. He could already smell the blood that began to trickle from his head wound. Hannibal found the spot. He pulled his hand away and saw the red smeared against his fingers. A cold chill ran through him. Letting Will lean against his lap, he brought his fingers up and took in the scent. It was so much stronger now.  _So much stronger_. He touched his fingertip to his lips and couldn’t resist dragging his tongue across it. The chill hit him again and he shivered just slightly. This was the closest he would get to his taste. At least for the time being.

He was barely paying attention to his actions and before long his fingers were licked clean. The taste lingered in his mouth. If he was lucky, it would stay. He would always remember it.

But there Will was, below him. He could do anything to him now, absolutely anything. And he wanted to do absolutely  _everything_.

He pulled Will close, tucking him against his body like a child would desperately hold onto their favorite doll. He pressed his mouth into the crook of his neck. Ah, there was his pulse. Fluttering gently against his lips. It felt wonderful.

_It would be such a shame if this were to stop._

He took in his scent. There was that same aftershave, but beneath it his illness, his  _encephalitis_. So sweet. He associated it with Will Graham more than the abhorrent aftershave.

His hands moved across Will’s body, down the center of his back, over his spine. He imagined his skeleton, and then his organs, the muscles that protected all of it, and then there was his skin. _Right here_. He was a work of art, completed by that mind of his. That beautiful mind that could see everything. 

He moved his hands again and they found themselves underneath his ratty jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders. He was even closer now. He barely needed to look at him. This proximity was better. He shifted Will so he could rest his chin on top of his head, to tuck him in close while he blindly removed Will’s jacket.

Now he could feel the proper shape of him. A part of him wished to remove more, to feel more of his skin. But he was being undignified enough as it was. He didn’t want to molest his pet more than he needed to. This was good enough. He held him close for several moments. He was nearly satisfied. 

He lowered Will’s limp body back into his lap so he could properly see his face. Brushing strands of his messy hair aside, he smiled. 

 _You remarkable, broken thing_.

His hand around Will’s neck. He was fascinated by his neck. He felt his pulse there again and it was like a sedative. 

Will would talk about this tomorrow evening. He’d be scared. He might think he lost time again, or maybe he’ll think he blacked out and hit his head against the wall while falling. Hannibal will know that is not what happened.

Satisfied enough, he gently laid Will Graham onto the ground.

_I do apologize, my friend._

He didn’t wish to leave so soon, but he knew this would not be the very last time he’d be able touch him.


End file.
